


five times grantaire was too short (and one time he was just the right height)

by wordonawing



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Amusement Parks, Festivals, Fluff, Height Differences, M/M, grantaire is very short, lots of fluff, they met in a library bc im soppy like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordonawing/pseuds/wordonawing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be fair, it's how he meets Enjolras, so Grantaire can't really complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times grantaire was too short (and one time he was just the right height)

**one**

To be fair, it’s how he meets Enjolras, so Grantaire can’t really complain.

It’s still humiliating, though.

He’s standing in the philosophy section of the library, staring longingly up at the book he needs for class which has remained just out of his reach despite the stepladder provided by the cute librarian who hides his smile behind his hair whenever Grantaire grins at him.

He considers climbing up the bookshelf, but after a quick recce decides that it would probably only fall over and crush him. The university does not spend enough money on their furniture to enable it to withstand impromptu parkour.

Someone clears their throat quietly behind him, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Sorry!” The boy holds up both his hands in a placating gesture and takes a few steps back, his blue eyes earnest. “I just wondered if you needed some help.”

Grantaire opens and closes his mouth a few times before he manages to squeak out an affirmative, because the guy is probably the most attractive person he’s ever seen. Forget the cute librarian, Grantaire is in _love_.

The boy gives him a shy smile (and wow, he wouldn’t have expected that kind of expression to look that good on such a ridiculously beautiful face) and reaches past him to the top shelf. “This one?” he asks, resting his fingertips on the book Grantaire wants, and Grantaire nods dumbly because _wow that’s a nice ass._

“Here you go.” The boy holds the book out to Grantaire and Grantaire takes it, trying to ignore the feeling of the boy’s skin against his own as their fingers brush for the briefest of seconds. He’s never washing his hand again.

“Thanks.”

The man does that smiling thing again and Grantaire’s heart nearly gives out. “You’re welcome. I’m Enjolras, by the way.” He holds out a hand. 

Grantaire takes it, hoping desperately that his palm isn’t as sweaty as it feels. Definitely never washing it again. “Grantaire. People call me R. Like, capital R. It’s kind of stupid -”

“No, I like it.” Enjolras shrugs one shoulder, long fingers fiddling with the strap of his rucksack. “Let me know if you need any more help. I’ll be over there, with my friend.” He points to a table near the back where Grantaire can see a bespectacled student bent over his notebook, scribbling feverishly. “I mean, if you’re staying.”

Grantaire was meant to be meeting Eponine for coffee. Oh well.

She’s angry later, but he appeases her by telling her all about the beautiful boy he met in the library and subsequently proceeded to have a forty-minute argument about democracy with before taking his book home and finding a slip of paper with a number written in blue ballpoint.

The rest, as they say, is history.

**two**

"You cheated."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did - "

"Guys, come on," Combeferre breaks in, spreading his hands between Courfeyrac and Grantaire as if afraid they'll come to physical blows if he doesn't separate them (which is not an unfair assumption to make, to be honest, given the way Courfeyrac's clenching his fists at his sides). "You're acting like children."

That starts Courfeyrac off again.

"But he _cheated_ \- "

"I didn't cheat! Where in the rules of hide and seek does it say - "

"You have an unfair advantage - "

"You _what_?"

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre says in his _I'm starting to get annoyed now and if you don't listen to me things are going to get very ugly very quickly_ voice. "Shut up. Grantaire did not cheat."

Grantaire triumphantly sticks his tongue out at Courfeyrac, who whines, "But _Ferre_ \- "

"He hid, we didn't find him, he won. End of story. Next game."

"He hid _in a group of schoolchildren_." Courfeyrac delivers this with such a look of abject horror on his face, as if shocked at Grantaire's audacity in using his height and his capacity to bullshit to his advantage, that Grantaire nearly bursts out laughing.

"Which is perfectly legal, not to mention better than anything you’ve ever come up with, Courfeyrac.” Courfeyrac makes a noise like a wounded animal, but Combeferre ignores him. “Now, I believe it's Feuilly's turn to count?"

Feuilly claps his hands over his eyes and turns into the tree. "One, two, three..."

The group immediately disperse for the nearest hiding places, some heading for the group of trees on the edge of the park, others for the playground at the bottom of the hill or the café area to the right. Courfeyrac lingers a while, glaring at Grantaire. Grantaire just shrugs and grins smugly at him.

Sometimes, being the height of the average prepubescent boy has its advantages.

**three**

"I'm very sorry, sir -"

Grantaire knows what the nice young lady at the gate is going to say before she even opens her mouth, but he forces himself to pause and give her a polite smile, because she can't be more than sixteen and he knows firsthand how shitty theme park jobs can be.

And she looks so sympathetic, too, as she points to the green plastic dragon standing just outside the entrance to the ride with a paw raised to a height just over Grantaire’s head and a speech bubble saying, "if you're not taller than this, your dreams of going on this unbelievably awesome ride that you had to queue for two hours for are shattered". (Well, that's not exactly what it says, but that's the gist.)

"I really am sorry," says the girl, and Grantaire can tell she means it, but he really wanted to go on the rollercoaster, goddamnit. "There's another ride just down the path -"

"No, it's okay, I'll, uh. I'll wait here." He can feel the impatience of the line behind him, full of people who are all much taller than the dragon's paw and who are angry that this hobbit should be delaying their fun.

The others have all gone in ahead of him, and beyond the gate he sees Enjolras, who was directly in front of him in the queue, turn around and cock his head quizzically. Grantaire gives him a smile to show that it's okay, he's fine, he'll just wait for them, and jerks a thumb in the direction of the little café just outside the gate. He turns around before he can catch Enjolras's answering expression; he doesn't need to see any more pitying looks, thank you very much.

He's sitting at one of the picnic tables, playing Candy Crush on his phone and trying not to listen to the sounds of terror and delight coming out of the doors of the Dragon's Castle, when someone comes and sits down opposite him.

He doesn't bother looking up to see which kind citizen has come to his rescue. "No, I haven't lost my parents, I'm twenty-three, I have my driver's licence to prove it, I came into contact with radioactive waste as a teenager."

"Really?" The voice is familiar, and Grantaire looks up and very nearly jumps out of his skin.

"What - why are - what?"

Enjolras shrugs and smiles at him, and if Grantaire didn't know Enjolras (and what Enjolras thinks of Grantaire) he'd say he looked almost... fond.

"I didn't really fancy the Dragon. I think I ate too much at lunch, I'm feeling a little queasy."

Grantaire finds that a little hard to believe, because Enjolras eats exactly as much as he needs to and then stops, because he's an android, but hey, if it means Enjolras is sitting with him, he'll let it slide.

They end up having more fun than they usually do when they're together. Instead of arguing about politics, they get ice creams from the café and stretch out in the sun, making up stories about the people that go past. Enjolras is surprisingly good at the game, and even laughs at Grantaire's increasingly more preposterous suggestions. Grantaire loves making Enjolras laugh, making him throw his golden head back and let out little adorable snorting noises like he hasn't a care in the world. He looks even more beautiful when he laughs, and Grantaire likes being the cause of that.

He's almost disappointed when the others return, each with a yellow plastic medal around their neck saying 'I braved the Dragon!', and drag them off to the next adventure. "I'm so sorry you couldn't go on, R," says Jehan, catching up to Grantaire and linking their arms together. He looks so cut up about it, poor thing. Grantaire pats his shoulder consolingly. "We really should've checked before we came..."

"Nah, it was fine." Grantaire looks up and catches Enjolras's eye; they exchange somewhat guilty grins, like naughty kids. "It was...interesting."

"You didn't argue _all_ the time, did you?"

"No," says Grantaire, smiling to himself. "Not all the time."

**four**

Grantaire is not jealous of Jehan.

Most definitely not.

He’s totally not jealous of the fact that Jehan is sitting on Courfeyrac’s shoulders (he didn’t even have to _ask_ , my God, they’re made for each other) and can see over everyone’s heads and doesn’t have to keep doing awkward little half-jump-half-dance-moves to catch a glimpse of the band.

Why is everyone so goddamn _tall_? 

It would be okay if Cosette were here, because Cosette is both shorter and more terrifying than him, and so would shove her way to an elevated location somewhere around the middle of the crowd, dragging him along with her. But Cosette is not here, and Grantaire thinks he might be missing her almost as much as Marius.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Marius looks like he might burst into tears at any moment.

But at least he can see most of what’s going on, being (as most people) taller than Grantaire.

He’s just considering taking a seat in the mud (because seriously, his jeans are filthy enough anyway and it’s not like he’s going to get a worse view) when Bahorel, who has mysteriously moshed his way to his side, drops down to his knees and booms, “All aboard!”

So really, it doesn’t end that badly. He’s even got a better view than Jehan. Halfway through the next song, the camera zooms in on Grantaire’s neon face paint glowing in the gloom at the back of the field (he knows because he can make out the dick that Jehan drew), which is embarrassing but pretty cool all the same. He doesn’t even mind when Bahorel starts dancing wildly beneath him during the final song. He just grabs onto his head and hangs on for dear life.

After that, the gig isn’t so bad after all.

(It’s just as well he’s not looking at Enjolras, really.)

**five**

Here’s the thing: Grantaire wants to kiss Enjolras, and he’s pretty sure Enjolras wants him to kiss him. He keeps glancing over at Grantaire from where he’s standing with Combeferre with this look in his eye like Grantaire’s the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and he wants to keep looking at him forever.

Grantaire could be reading it wrong, though. Enjolras could just be after the brownies in Grantaire’s hand. Cosette’s brownies are the best thing about their annual picnic. She doesn’t even need to put weed in them.

Later, Enjolras makes his way purposefully through the clumps of their friends to join Grantaire under the cherry tree at the bottom of Courfeyrac’s garden. “Hey.”

Grantaire’s brain switches off for a second, and he blurts out, “Can I kiss you?” and then immediately turns bright red, because that is definitely not how you get the boy you’ve been in love with for three years to kiss you or even consider you a worthwhile human being. He screws his eyes shut and clamps his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, oh God - “

Enjolras takes hold of Grantaire’s wrists, which stops him dead in his tracks. “Grantaire. Breathe.”

Grantaire takes a big breath and lets Enjolras gently take his hands away from his face and tangle their fingers together. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, really.” Enjolras is sort of half-smiling, which Grantaire guesses is a good thing. At least he isn’t angry. “The answer is yes, by the way.”

“Sorry, what?”

Enjolras’s smile widens, and his eyes are so soft that Grantaire thinks his heart might melt. “You can kiss me. I’d like it a lot if you did, actually.”

Grantaire’s heart is actually melting.

“Oh.” He stays there for a few moments, just in case the universe changes its mind. Nothing happens, so he tentatively rises up on the balls of his feet and stretches as high as he can.

Not high enough, apparently. He just catches the edge of Enjolras’s chin, which wasn’t exactly where he was aiming for. He drops back down to his normal height and frowns. Well, that went brilliantly. Now what’s he going to -

“Hold on.” Enjolras takes hold of Grantaire’s hand again (he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to that) and takes a few steps backwards, pulling Grantaire with him, so that they’re standing just in front of Courfeyrac’s old garden bench. “Why don’t we try this?”

“What are you -” But that’s all Grantaire manages to get out before Enjolras fits his hands to Grantaire’s waist and very gently sets him on the bench.

“Oh. Right.” Grantaire grabs hold of Enjolras’s shoulders to steady himself and takes another big breath.

“You okay? I thought it would be easier.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grantaire fiddles with the collar of Enjolras’s shirt, smoothing down the rumples in the flannel. They’re exactly the same height now. “It’s perfect.”

Grantaire would say the smile Enjolras gives him is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but then he kisses him, and it’s perfect and no one has to do any bending down or leaning up and Grantaire very nearly dies.

 

* * *

**plus one**

Grantaire stops minding so much about his height once he starts dating Enjolras. Sure, it’s annoying when he has to stand at the front of the crowd to hear his boyfriend (he’ll never get over that) rant about oppression, or when some dickhead tries to aggravate him just because he’s short (you can predict how well that ends). But there are other things too, like curling up in Enjolras’s lap, or jumping on his back and engaging in pavement jousting bouts with Jehan and Courfeyrac, or falling asleep wrapped around him on the sofa and waking up in their bed.

He thinks the part he likes the most, though, is when they hug, because his head fits exactly under Enjolras’s chin.

Height is, after all, relative.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a very stressful week
> 
> (number five is stolen from that tumblr post that went around that one time)


End file.
